


Shut Up And Color

by kyarorin



Series: Domesticating Ironhide [5]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Robot Ponies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 03:36:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2052132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyarorin/pseuds/kyarorin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nodding to herself, Annabelle smiled, looking over at her Mommy, who had been setting up the buffet, to see her with the strangest expression on her face. Shrugging, the little girl got back to what was important: Sparkly boa placement and bubble machines.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shut Up And Color

“General Lennox,” Ironhide said gravely, looking down at his commander, head cocked to the side. “I believe it would be best to have the tea table inside the base perimeter.”

General Annabelle Lennox of the Fifth Princess Battalion looked up, and up, at her largest soldier currently shanghaied into Operation Best Birthday Ever and scowled. “No. It needs to go by the tree.”

“The tree is part of the water-gun range,” he countered evenly, making the bedazzled soon-to-be-six year old frown even more. “It would be tactically unsound to have your tea party there, when the… big kids are playing. Your scones would get wet.”

Soldiers were supposed to listen, darn it, not argue with their commanders! Crossing her chiffon clad arms and stomping her booted foot, General Princess Annabelle looked over the field next to their house that would soon be filled with other NEST children and their families for her birthday, complete with bouncy castle and robotic-pony rides, the herd’s metallic hides gleaming in the sun as one whickered softly at her.

There, closest to the house, was the food and present table adjacent to it was the small paddock Ratchet had put together, along with the ponies, chairs set up along the porch for the adults to sit and watch while she and her friends waged war with the icky boys who she had to invite as well. (And Annabelle was going to win that war, thank you very much.)

“It’s prettier by the tree,” she insisted, never mind that she had her Daddy setting up the water-gun range for Aunt Mikaela and Uncle Sam and Uncle Bobby; Mommy said the big kids would get bored because they were too big to ride the ponies. It was her duty, as General and Head Princess, to ensure all Daddy’s visiting soldiers are well cared for and entertained as well as her own.

She would have a word with Ratchet after the party, and tell him not to be so thoughtless- like a good leader, like her Daddy. Clearly next year Ratchet would also have to supply _big_ ponies.

Ironhide’s right optic shutter caught briefly, before he blinked at her, holding the tea table in one hand and rumbled slightly. “Are you quite sure, General?”

Of course she was, but Ironhide seemed unable to see her grand plan, where the tea party would be by the tree, in the shade and where it would be prettiest, streamers hanging from its branches while she and Tina and Hillary and Jessie and the other girls could snub their noses at the stupid boys who would refuse their treatises and armistice-whatsits, and then they could beat them up later with the foam sticks. And maybe water-guns. Daddy’s soldiers were on Daddy’s side, and she’s his Princess, so she should be able to order them around too, right? She could order them away from the tea table well until she’s ready.

Only Ironhide wasn’t listening and was being a butt and there was only one thing she knew of that got Ironhide and Daddy to listen, especially when Mommy got mad about the cannon holes in the ground and they started protesting about vermin and broken cattle legs.

Taking a deep breath, General Princess Annabelle pointed at the tree, near where her father was setting up a pillar of tires. “Soldier!” She bellowed, in her lowest voice, nearly making herself cough. Annabelle didn’t notice her father stop to watch.

Emphasizing her next command with a stomp of the foot, Annabelle yelled out the secret phrase Mommy used whenever they were being butts. “Shut up and color!”

The black mech before her straightened, frame rattling like it did when he thought something was funny but knew he shouldn’t laugh as he saluted, drawling out a low “Yes, m’am,” before ambling over to put the tea table down right where she wanted it.

Nodding to herself, Annabelle smiled, looking over at her Mommy, who had been setting up the buffet, to see her with the strangest expression on her face. Shrugging, the little girl got back to what was important: Sparkly boa placement and bubble machines.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“She’s definitely your daughter,” Will said later, watching his little princess rip into a pack of boys with the foam joust, her pink dress stained with mud and grass, ripped by her constant tripping in her mini-combat boots. Followed by Sam (in a tiara), Mikaela, Epps, and a gaggle of other NEST girls, dressed to the nines in various sparkly accoutrements, Annabelle led her Princess Militia after the horrendously outnumbered group of boys her age.

Ironhide was still by the tea table, sparkly blue boas wrapped around his wrists and sitting there, all but daring the older guests and Autobots to comment.

“You didn’t beat up your guests when you were that age?” Sarah said innocently, swigging her beer. That was when Will remembered he didn’t exactly marry her because she was a proper lady.  



End file.
